For Want of Other Idleness
by Jayden Scott
Summary: There was only one thing in the world Claire Redfield wanted more than a cigarette. Alice/Claire WARNING: Femslash goodness! Set post RE: Extinction.
1. Prologue

**Title: For Want of Other Idleness  
**

**Fandom: Resident Evil Extinction  
**

**Pairing: Alice/Claire  
**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.  
**

**A/N: Set in the Extinction movie-verse. Feedback is super appreciated. In fact, I'll trade my first born for feedback. And by the way, yes, I am a smoker. And yes, this is potentially the first part of a series. Go me.  
**

* * *

There was only one thing in the world Claire Redfield wanted more than a cigarette.

And she wanted a cigarette _bad_.

She knew exactly how it would feel when she would take that first heavy drag and held it, how the smoke would curl in her lungs, aching to be exhaled. She knew how that first rush of nicotine would feel when it hit her blood like a silent scream coursing through her veins. She knew that after the first several drags of the cigarette, how her head would feel light, almost airy after such a long period of denial.

Her hands would instinctually know how to behave, the actions ingrained in the memory of her muscles. Her lips would press around the filter of the cigarette, the fingers of her left hand cupped just slightly around the opposite end. Her thumb would effortlessly fall into the well-practiced motion of flicking the wheel of her lighter, once maybe twice before she would hold the thick of the flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhale until the paper singed to lifeless ash and the tobacco glowed embers of livid orange red.

Once lit, she would inhale and take the cigarette away from her lips with her left hand as she began the first tremulous exhalation. The cigarette would fall between the first joint of her middle and index fingers, right where the filter met paper. Her hand would raise to her lips automatically, as soon as she finished one exhalation she would start the next, breathing in the acrid taste of nicotine and tar deep into the bottom of her lungs.

Claire preferred full flavor cigarettes. Although she had gone without for so long, that she would settle for a light or an ultra-light. Even though smoking a light cigarette was the equivalent of breathing to her, like breathing in the thick, humid air of an enclosed space filled with sweaty bodies. Although, even that was preferable to a menthol which felt like trying to inhale ice water. But she had gone for so long without a cigarette of any kind, she was willing to settle.

Who knew that Alaska would be so void of any nicotine products? At first, when Claire had landed her chopper containing the few ragged remaining members of her convoy, she had been relieved to reach the far northern state.

It was just as Alice had claimed it would be. The Virus had not touched Alaska; there was no infection there. Not to say there was no death. People in the larger cities had died when the water stopped running, grocery trucks stopped rolling, and garbage trucks stopped picking up the rotting piles left at the street curbs. Starvation had taken its toll and disease of a different kind than the T-Virus robbed what little life remained when basic sanitation broke down.

But the smaller towns and villages fared much better. Instead of hoarding food and killing one another over scraps, the smaller communities stockpiled and shared, organized farming and hunting parties, divided labor. When they didn't, they became ghost towns just like any of the hundreds Claire's convoy had driven through in Nevada.

The largest difference for Claire was the wilderness. In the continental states, the T-Virus had turned the majority of the country to wasteland. It was an empty, barren desert that had spread and swallowed land that had once been lush and fertile. In Alaska there were trees, whole forests of trees and grass and bushes and foliage that, without human interference, flourished. There were animals: more rabbits than she had ever seen, herds of elk and deer, foxes and bears. Species that had been endangered before had rebounded in the face of the human extinction.

The dozen or so survivors of her convoy had taken up residency in one of the former ghost villages. They had cleaned it up, scavenged food, and built a home for themselves. A home, safe from the infected, from the flesh-eating zombies that had ravaged the world.

It was truly a Paradise, just like Alice had claimed. Except there wasn't a single pack of cigarette to be had north of Juneau. Hell, she would have settled for a nicotine patch if she could roll it and smoke it.

It had ceased to be a hunger and begun to become a clawing need. There were mornings when she sat on the porch of the small cabin she had claimed as her own, watched her breath frost on the cool dawn air, and pretended it was smoke. Those were the moments when she missed smoking the most, when she sat in the cool quiet glow of the sunrise or sunset, alone and wrapped in a tattered, reclaimed woolen blanket and sipping hot tea warmed on a wood-burning stove.

She had never smoked before. Before. Before the T-Virus had escaped the Hive, infested and broke through the quarantine of Raccoon City and began its relentless assault on the rest of the world. Before when she had been a college student, and not the leader of a convoy, driving across the country trying to survive. Before when flesh-eating zombies and gun battles had been a thing of fiction and movies, not real life.

But she had done a lot of things in the past five years. Things that she had never done Before.

Which led to the only thing that Claire missed more than cigarettes and smoking.

When she closed her eyes, she could still see frightening blue eyes peering up at her in a moment's hesitation, thin lips pressed together, head cocked in a half nod just as Claire pulled up on the stick that launched her chopper skywards.

She missed those eyes. Those eyes that were like gazing into a melting pool of a glacier, almost feral in their intensity. Eyes that missed nothing, that were relentless in their scrutiny and could strip Claire naked and raw with a glimpse.

More, she missed feeling that body underneath her hands. Her hands remembered exactly how the skin felt underneath her fingers, smooth and flawless like porcelain. How taut stomach muscles flexed and quivered under splayed fingers. She needed to feel that body against hers again, holding her while she slept, and clutching her, sweat skin against smooth skin.

It was a painful ache underneath her ribs every time she thought of Alice, the quiet, aloof stranger that wandered into her camp and became so much more than a savior. When Alice had joined their convoy, Claire had realized for the previous five years, she had been merely surviving. They drove from dead town to dead town, scavenging what they could from the skeletal remains of old buildings, fighting the abrasive bite of the sand, struggling against the swell of the living dead. Never thinking, never feeling, always trying to evade the next brutal stab that death threw their way.

But when she was with Alice, she was more. When she was with Alice, she was _living_.

She hadn't wanted to leave her at the Umbrella Corporation's underground desert complex. Every nerve had protested when she swung the chopper into the air, leaving her lover on the ground below. But she had understood why Alice had stayed.

More than ever, she felt alone. The angry ache of loneliness was more fierce than it had ever been before Alice. Before Alice she could hold herself aloof, impartial from the rest of her convoy. But since she had tasted what it meant to live again, the devastation of being alone was all the more acute. Especially when Alice had given her, all of them, this life.

Buffered by thousands of square miles of wilderness and isolation, they were safe from the malicious grasp of the T-Virus. But even safe and well-fed, comfortable in a warm bed instead of the backseat of a Hummer, Claire felt starved and alone.

Seated in the old rickety rocking chair on her front porch, swaddled in worn blanket as she waited for the sun to crest over the mountains, Claire yearned for the comfort of a cigarette to quench the burning lack of Alice.


	2. Chapter I

**Title: For Want of Other Idleness: Chapter I  
**

**Fandom: Resident Evil Extinction  
**

**Pairing: Alice/Claire  
**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.  
**

**A/N: Set in the Extinction movie-verse. Feedback is super appreciated. In fact, I'll trade my first born for feedback. It takes you two seconds to give me some feedback, and it leaves me happy for days. Anyway, chapter uno.  
**

* * *

The sign had been K-mart's idea.

Even in the midst of an apocalypse, the teenager found a way to indulge her artistic inclinations. By unanimous vote, the survivors of the convoy had named their reclaimed village Abernathy and when they cannibalized the town's old sign to use to patch a roof, K-mart decided the village of Abernathy needed its own sign.

Claire had been against the idea from the start, but once the teenager stuck an idea in her head, it was near impossible to dislodge it. But quickly, she recruited the rest of the survivors to help with her project, sans Claire who said she refused to waste time better spent repairing some of the village's wells or collecting food. The only reason she allowed the rest of the village to spend time on it was because it seemed so important to everyone.

A few of the adults drove a roughly hewn log into the ground for the sign's post on the north side of town along Edgerton Highway, the only road leading into the village. The littlest ones scavenged planks for the actual sign and bricks to place around the base of the post. One of the young teenagers found a stash of old tubes of oil paint. K-mart collected shards of colorful glass and sacrificed some of her jewelry for the beads.

The adults nailed the planks into place at the top of the post; the small children placed the bricks and bunches of wild flowers they had gathered around the bottom of the post. With the bits of brightly colored glass and glittering beads, K-mart created a border around the edges of the sign. "Abernathy" was painted in pale powder blue block letters. And underneath, scrawled with a stick of charcoal: Population: 13.

"It's finished," K-mart told Claire one balmy afternoon, beaming proudly.

"Good," Claire pulled the bill of her cap lower over her eyes, hung her hunting rifle over her shoulder by its sling. "Now everyone can get back to work."

"We're going to have a dedication to officially mark its completion." The blond teenager said, rolling her eyes the way teenagers did whenever their patience with an adult wore thin. "You can come if you want." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, towards the north side of the village.

"Somebody's got to check the dip nets." Claire replied tonelessly, referring to the nets she and the other villagers set in the nearby river to catch salmon. When K-mart didn't reply, she lifted her gaze.

The girl appeared on the verge of words, as if she was privy to information that she wasn't sure she should share, but just shook her head. "Okay," She shrugged as if to dismiss the matter as unimportant. "We'll all be back before dark."

Claire adjusted the weight of her rifle, and headed into the forest and towards the river, leaving the village of Abernathy behind her.

The trail she chose was a longer route to the river, but the trees were thicker, the terrain more diverse. Halting in mid step, she paused long enough to watch a pair of rabbits chasing one another across the path and rustle into the brush. Once at the river, she took her time checking the nets and dipping them back into the water to sit overnight. Still reluctant to return to the village, she sat cross-legged on the river bank, rifle across her lap.

The water churned at this point of the river, not quite into rapids, but just enough that the water protested against rocks and a gentle curve in its course in an audible rushing babble. It was soothing, a comforting balm that lured her from the present into her thoughts. This used to be her favorite time of day, when everything was done for the day. She would perch atop the hood of the Hummer as dusk prepared the sky for the shroud of night. Cigarette pressed between her lips, she'd watch as the stars slowly revealed themselves and let her mind drift.

From the very start, she had been against the sign, though she hadn't known precisely why. It wasn't necessary, a frivolous waste of time. It was not as if anyone but themselves was around to see it. But the motives ran much deeper than constructing a landmark. Everyone, except Claire, had contributed something to it: time, skills, materials, suggestions. The sign had become an emblem of pride for the survivors of Claire's convoy, the inhabitants of Abernathy, Alaska.

Hope. That's what Carlos would have called it. The manufacture of the sign became something of a symbol of normalcy. The first step toward rebuilding a life that was not constructed on a foundation of fear, of running and hiding. No one laughed much the past six years, but she had heard them, seen their smiles as they built the little sign that was their claim on this land, their declaration that this village was their home.

Carlos probably would have encouraged them to build the damn thing, just because it made everyone feel better. Just like he had argued to allow Alice to stay with the convoy, just like he argued in favor for trying to reach Alaska. Not because it was practical or even logical, but because it felt right. He was much better at people than she ever was, that was definitely Carlos's arena. But Claire could not afford to be swayed by emotion, by people. She was responsible for the survival of the convoy, now the village. It was her duty to do what was best for them.

But it did not change the fact that Carlos, who had sacrificed himself so they all could make it here, had been right on both counts. Alice had saved them all, and Alaska was the haven they hoped for. Perhaps, if he had still been alive, he would have been right about the sign too.

He might have been, Claire thought, clenching her teeth to fight down the rising swell in her throat. It did not change what the sign symbolized to her though. To Claire, the sign was a raw reminder of what was missing from her life.

As the sun set, she slung her rifle over her shoulder again and started back to the village. In the darkened woods, she relied on memory to carry her back home, rather than sight. Still accustomed to the silent desert, every noise still made her pause and listen. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever get used to the dense forests and mountains of Alaska.

It still didn't feel like home. She found no comfort in having a roof over her head, a cabin that she shared with K-mart and called her own. There should have been solace in a daily routine that excluded running and fighting, but Claire felt only unease. It felt as if the trees were slowly pressing in on her, and the horizon where air kissed earth was much too close.

Part of her missed the desert. Not the sand or the heat, but in the desert she had Alice.

Her feet carried her past the silent homes where everyone had retired for the night, past the abandoned general store and coffee shop that they had yet to convert into useful buildings, to the north side of town.

To where the little sign was posted, surrounded by handfuls of wildflowers and draped in braided wildflower garlands. Hands planted on her hips, Claire tried to see what the others saw, tried to find hope and pride in the little sign that boasted "Abernathy, Alaska. Population: 13."

Instead, she was reminded of an obscenely gaudy grave marker.

"I figured you'd make your way here eventually." A voice behind her sniffed awkwardly and said. Claire did not have to turn around to know it was K-mart. Gravel crunched under sneakers as the teenager walked over to stand beside her, hands jammed into the pockets of her jacket. She was silent for a long minute before speaking again, this time her voice a whisper. "Do you think she's still alive?"

Claire also did not have to ask what "she" K-mart was referring to, but the question still caught her unexpectedly, like a solid punch to her chest, like having the wind kicked out of her. Swallowing her initial reaction, she shrugged weakly. "If anyone could survive, it's Alice."

Left in the middle of a herd of hundreds of Infected, left to challenge an entire Umbrella Corporation facility by herself, not even Alice could have escaped without a miracle. Even if she managed to somehow take out the facility, there was still the matter of fighting her way past hundreds of Undead without being Infected or ripped apart limb from limb. Claire did not know whether her lover was dead, she had not seen her die or felt the finality of it, but all logic told her there was no way she could have survived.

Mostly, Claire did not allow herself to think about it. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that she would never see Alice again. Biting down on the inside of her lip, hard, she fought the tightness in her chest and throat that brought unbidden tears.

Through a haze of tears, Claire stared at the sign and finally felt something within herself break. All of her family had been killed within months of the T-Virus escaping Raccoon City, and in six years she had lost dozens of friends. But she had never let herself break. Someone had to hold it together, someone had to be strong, make sure as many people survived as was possible. But the thought that Alice may be gone forever, and that the garish little sign would be the only marker Claire would have to remember her by, was the final blow to her broken spirit.

She attempted to bite back the first sob but it broke free of her, and once the barrier had been breached, she was helpless to stop. The sobs shook her with such violence that her legs could no longer support her and she fell to her knees. K-mart caught her before she fell completely to the ground and knelt beside her, guiding the older woman to lean against her body.

The tears she shed were not silent tears of pain or loss, they were brutal sobs of grief that came as if they were being forcibly wrenched from her body. Nothing could be right in the world for Claire, not anymore. What had it mattered, when they were in the desert that they were near starving, facing Undead at every intersection and doorway, battling for life on a daily basis? At least then Alice was with her, snuggled against her in the Hummer, watching her with brooding blue eyes, touching her with slender, calloused hands. It hadn't mattered if she died because she had Alice. Now without her, how was she supposed to live?

K-mart cradled her, let her weep. "Alice will find us, Claire." The teenager whispered, once the sobs had subsided into ragged breaths. "She'll find us," She declared, nearly hissing with conviction.

Tears still streaking her face, Claire clung to the younger woman as if she were afraid of falling. "She has to, K. I can't… she has to."


	3. Chapter II

**Title: For Want of Other Idleness: Chapter II  
**

**Fandom: Resident Evil Extinction  
**

**Pairing: Alice/Claire  
**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.  
**

**A/N: Set in the Extinction movie-verse. Feedback is super appreciated. My muse came back for this one. Thank gods.  
**

* * *

Once all of the Alice clones had been awakened, they totaled nine hundred and seventy-four. Three had died of complications during the reanimation process, but nine hundred and seventy-four near-perfect replicas of Alice survived.

Alice herself expected to feel differently, surrounded by women who appeared exactly like her. They had the same eyes, the same jeering smirk and roll of the shoulders. They had the same mannerisms and tone and inflection of voice. They, supposedly, were infected and bonded with the T-virus the same way she was, possessed the same abilities. They had her memories, up to the point in Detroit when she disappeared from Umbrella's surveillance. They were supposed to be her.

But in truth, sequestered hundreds of meters underground in Umbrella's research facility, with no one but nine hundred and seventy-four copies of herself and one annoying child-formed AI, the White Queen, for company, Alice had never felt more alone or isolated.

Even in the desert, before she jumped aboard Claire Redfield's convoy, she had the solace of herself. But surrounded by so many clones, so many women almost precisely identical to her, she felt even that had been stripped away.

She expected to find some comfort surrounded by women who knew what it was like to be not-quite-human, to be other, to be her.

There was only one ease to the aloneness, one moment that managed to pierce through her isolation and grant her a breath of respite. Normally, she did not willingly indulge in the use of her active powers. She could not really stop the progression of her passive abilities like her fast healing capabilities and super strength. But the active abilities like telekinesis or summoning a firestorm were more reflexive and inadvertent and terrifying.

But Alice found that if she allowed the world to drop away from her, to still her mind so she was no longer cognizant of her environment, she could prod at the boundaries of her awareness. With the snarling tendrils of her perception push outwards; she could reach out, even across vast distances, and touch the awareness of others.

The first time she had done it, it had been an accident. She had been working on the anti-virus. It was not so much the cure that the White Queen had promised, but a weapon and a vaccine. That was how she spent most of her days, locked in one of the many laboratories in the underground facility, with the child AI peering over her shoulder and telling her what to do with the vials and samples and microscopes and machines that she had no name for.

She had been hunched over one of the microscopes, and found her mind drifting away from the monotony of scientific exertion. At first she was merely indulging in memories, remembering the last time she felt not alone. She and Claire had relegated K-mart to sleep in one of the other vehicles that night, so they had the Hummer to themselves.

They'd spent the night in the back seat of the Hummer, losing themselves in one another, drinking in everything the other had to offer. Alice spent the night memorizing what Claire tasted like, the softness of her lips, the wetness of her tongue, the salty slickness of her sweat. What she felt like underneath her hands and lips and breasts, how her hair smelled not unpleasantly of sweat and Claire and cigarette smoke. She forced herself to imprint every soft curve of her body and heave of breath into her memory, because there was nothing she ever wanted to forget about the convoy leader.

When they slept, it had been in an anxious tangled embrace until they awoke again, made love again. Their love-making had been passionate and desperate, as if both were acutely aware that this may be the last time they had such an opportunity.

It had been. The next day they finally had reached Las Vegas.

That memory inevitably bled into wondering. Wondering if Claire and K-mart and the rest of the survivors had made it to Alaska, if the remote state actually had been a wilderness haven like they hoped. If they were even still alive.

And then suddenly, Alice was no longer staring into a microscope, wondering, daydreaming. Suddenly, it was singularly herself and she knew. She could feel them, specifically Claire. She knew that they had made it to Alaska, that they were safe.

She could sense Claire, in a manner, feel her without seeing her. Like a faint brush of hands, she could touch Claire's consciousness. The dire terror of constantly avoiding death in the convoy leader was gone, replaced by a fragile alertness. But Alice could still sense her guilt and pain, only now it seemed more severe than she remembered. There was an unyielding, cruel pain haunting her that Alice did not remember about her lover.

Even still, knowing that Claire was alive and safe, provided an immeasurable abundance of consolation to Alice. And being able to reach out and sense her from time to time helped assuage some of the unrelenting solitude Alice felt.

It helped solidify her objective in her mind. Once the weapon, if it could be called that, was finished, Alice began sending out platoons and squads of her copies to test it. On a small scale first, to see if it could clear the Undead that had nearly overrun the area directly above the facility.

It worked. It infiltrated the T-Virus like a Trojan Horse and effectively annihilated it, which also left the host dead, but Alice had shot too many zombies in the head without regret. She did not feel a single wisp of regret that her "cure" for the Infection was a genocidal bio-weapon. The Undead had ceased to be people long ago, even if it was through no fault of their own. It could not be helped.

Even manufacturing vast quantities of the "cure" to be dispersed, it would take a long time to spread it effectively all over the world, to kill every last remaining bastion that the T-Virus had spread to. It was a War, but perhaps the tides were turning in their favor. Maybe with nine hundred and seventy-four Alices working to accomplish the task, it was indeed possible.

They worked tirelessly to gather supplies, trucks, choppers, anything they could acquire to use in their war. Alice taught her copies how to manufacture the weapon themselves, formulated a plan to spread it first across the North American continent and then to the rest of the world. There was hope that there might be a world again, that humans might survive after all.

When there was nothing left to do, Alice gathered all of her clones together in one of the assembly rooms in the underground facility. They had cleaned up as best they could from Dr. Isaacs rampage, but no matter how much they cleaned they could not eradicate the damp tang of death and blood completely.

Alice stood in front of them, gazing out over a sea of reflections of herself. It was like staring into a mirror that reflected nine hundred and seventy-four times, some dressed in scavenged, threadbare clothing and others, ironically, in Umbrella Corporation uniforms, but the face always the same. At first, Alice had wanted to draw a number on their foreheads so she could tell them apart, but found less and less that it mattered. They called her the Original, and Alice admitted that it still unnerved her to see copies of herself.

But instead of gazing out and seeing similarities, Alice saw differences this time. She was none of these women, and for the first time, she found she wasn't afraid of herself. "You are the last hope of humanity," She said in a voice that was meant to carry and ignoring the smile of approval the White Queen beamed at her. "We all know what we have to do if there is any hope of survival, if we wish to triumph over the T-Virus."

"And I wish you all the best of luck." She finished softly with a curt nod. Without waiting, she abruptly turned and strode out, leaving a rising crescendo of murmurs in her wake.

The White Queen followed, of course, there was no escaping the irritating AI. "Where are you going, Alice?" She asked, hovering behind Alice as she strode down the empty corridors.

"I'm retiring." Alice said.

"What do you mean, retiring? You cannot change who you are." The White Queen declared in a snotty voice, which, had she been a real child and not a holographic AI projection, Alice might have backhanded her.

Alice shrugged casually. No, she hadn't changed who she was. No one could change that. But someone else had changed her perception of who she was, what she could be. For the longest time, Alice lived in perpetual fear of herself, considered herself a freak, an abomination of what should be. Seeing the copies of herself that felt exactly the same way demonstrated to Alice that there was something else, that she had experienced something they had not. Humanity.

Alice had something that the nine hundred and seventy-four clones of herself did not have.

She had Claire.


	4. Chapter III

**Title: For Want of Other Idleness: Chapter II  
**

**Fandom: Resident Evil Extinction  
**

**Pairing: Alice/Claire  
**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.  
**

**A/N: Set in the Extinction movie-verse. Feedback is super appreciated. My muse came back for this one. Thank gods.**

* * *

By mid February, Claire had discovered the real reason why Infection had not reached Alaska.

It was too damn cold.

At the first sign of the leaves changing colors, Claire insisted everyone house together in the hotel located off the main road in town. It was the newest building by far, which still wasn't saying much, and the best insulated. There were fireplaces in every room and a large, functional kitchen. There were a total of eight rooms, but after sleeping in vehicles on the convoy, it was more than enough room for thirteen people.

Claire wanted everyone in one building, uncertain of how much snowfall to anticipate.

It was not so much snow as the bone aching cold, they all quickly learned. It was pervasive, clawing its way through layered clothing and chilling to the bone. Even through the heavy winter gear they scavenged from one of the nearby ranger stations, the cold could still be felt, angry and sharp. Leaving the relative warmth of the hotel was done only when necessity dictated.

Towards the beginning of March, it had warmed up enough that Claire thought it safe to allow everyone to come and go outdoors. It was still cold and snow still frosted the ground, but it was no longer a treacherous cold. It was a decision made based as much on Claire's sanity as anything else. The children, used to being cooped up on a bus during their convoy days, were not accustomed to being locked indoors constantly.

Even the adults were tired of one another. Even K-mart, who was nearly an adult now, had been short and moody. So Claire was all too happy to fall into the hard labor routine of the warmer months. Everyone moved back to their normal living quarters, Claire and K-mart back to their cabin, and preparation to survive the next winter started.

As soon as the sun rose, the survivors accompanied it. The winter stores had kept them adequately fed, but would not last forever. They also needed vegetables, their meager stores of canned goods had been depleted, and a diet of strictly protein would not stave off diseases like scurvy. There were plenty of abandoned vehicles, but they needed a lot of work before one would be in running condition again. A map in the hotel lobby suggested there were other ranger stations, small towns that, if they weren't inhabited, could be raided for potentially useful items.

One of the adults, Joel, had been a mechanic Before. Well, he and his brother had worked on a car once, trying to soup up the engine, and he knew how to change a tire. Both of which were more than enough to qualify him as a mechanic in these times. So while he worked on making a vehicle operational, the other adults and children stayed around the village working on chores, renovating other buildings in the town for use. K-mart and Claire usually spent most of their days either hunting or ice fishing.

Those days were usually spent in silence. Despite her initial reluctance to take the life of cute little rabbit or deer, K-mart turned out to be a proficient hunter once she discovered the driving need to eat. She and Claire would leave before dawn, bundled warmly and rifles slung, and find a suitable place to wait for passing wildlife. They rarely spoke.

Leaving Claire to her thoughts. Since her breakdown at the sign, neither she nor K-mart had mentioned Alice again even though they had a mutual understanding that the strong, strange woman was a frequent visitor to both of their minds. K-mart did not mention for fear of upsetting Claire, and Claire did not for fear of losing control of her emotions again.

But still she thought of Alice, or remembered her to be more accurate. She hadn't even liked Alice at first. She regarded her with a hostile suspicion bred by the undeniable need to survive and protect the lives under her charge. At first, it had been resentment and suspicion, but it gradually gave way to a grudging respect.

But once the seeds of respect had been planted, they gave bloom to curiosity about the woman. Everyone who survived Infection for five years was broken in some way or another and scared, but Alice was different. No one liked to talk about all the horror they all experienced, but Claire decided that Alice had her own personal horror, something that the members of the convoy could not relate to. And the fear that seemed to possess her was not a fear of the T-Virus or a death that was worse than itself, but a quiet terror of herself.

It wasn't long before the curiosity became yearning, a craving to reach out to the other woman, perhaps ease some the pain that paralyzed Alice and through her relieve some of the ache within herself as well.

It had been a long time since Claire had felt attraction to anyone, and it took her many studious, frustrating hours before she figured out that, indeed, was what she felt for Alice. It was an overwhelming need to touch and be touched by her, where every frustrating glimpse drove her pulse upwards. It was the flutter in her chest and the warmth in her cheeks whenever Alice rewarded her with a weak but rare smile. It was the defiance to the little voice that told her to protect herself, to keep her distance.

"I'm not safe," Alice had told her one night.

Claire hadn't cared, her face framed by Alice's small, slender hands. "When's the last time any of us were safe?" She had whispered plaintively, closing the distance their faces. The tip of their noses touched first, then lips.

So every morning, she and K-mart would leave the village in silence. Claire would lie in the snow which no longer felt cold to her anymore, and wait and remember. She would remember and miss Alice. There were times when she thought she could feel the other woman next to her, sense her presence as if she were burrowed in the snow next to her. If she could close her eyes, she could almost feel the back of Alice's hand brushing her cheek.

But then the hunting day would end, and they would carry the carcass of their kill back to the village to be stripped and cleaned. They would store the meat so it wouldn't spoil, and Claire would perform her evening rounds of the village, assuring everyone was safe, listen to accounts of the day, mediate disagreements, hand out assignments for the next day, before returning to her cabin where K-mart was usually preparing dinner.

She went through the same routine every day without thought or consideration. She felt like a robot, mindlessly reacting to her environment. It was as if life was occurring all around her, but she was helpless to participate. So she mimicked the others, went through the motions of living without ardor.

By April, the snow was well on its way to melting and the days lengthened. The inhabitants of Abernathy averted their efforts from building restoration and renovation to preparing small plots of land deemed the most fertile for another attempt at farming, and from hunting to fishing.

On a cool, drizzly morning, Claire and K-mart returned from the river early to mend one of the nets that had been snagged on a submerged log and torn. While a welcome break from the monotony, Claire nearly preferred her zombie fighting days to a day bent over trying to mend a net. Umbrella had been so relentless in its quest for future technology that it had created the catastrophic event that flung the human race back several centuries. Who even knew how to mend a net anymore?

K-mart huddled in a corner by the stove, knees drawn up to her chest, a book on Alaskan wildlife open to the chapter on edible plants. Claire peeked up from the net which she spread across the kitchen table, a rare smile finding its way to her features. Fully relaxed and absorbed by her book, K-mart appeared more like the sixteen year old kid she was and less like a survivor of the harsh, turbulent reality they now found themselves in.

Just as she was narrowing her eyes back on meticulous, painstaking work of fixing the net, she heard it. It was a sound that was both familiar and incongruous. It started as deep rumble that could be mistaken as thunder in the distance, but as it grew louder, it was unmistakable. The moment Claire's eyes met K-mart's, they simultaneously leapt to her feet.

K-mart, whose rifle was leaning against the wall next to her, was out the door before Claire could tell her to wait. Snagging her rifle from behind her, she cursed as she heard K-mart cry out over the roar that was now deafening. In a clean, brisk movement learned from her days clearing buildings of the Undead, she kicked the cabin door open, butt of the rifle against her shoulder, cheek already pressed to its stock, finger loosely resting on the trigger.

The cool air was startling, especially since she hadn't bothered to put on a jacket. A back part of her mind noted that the roar had ceased, as quickly as it began, but now there was an obscenely large Jeep parked in front of her cabin.

Gripping the rifle by the barrel, K-mart had let it fall to her side. She stood right off the porch, staring at the driver of the vehicle, who had dismounted and shut the door behind her.

Just like the first time Claire had seen her, the figure was swaddled in clothing. Only this time, she wore long trousers and a sweater underneath her long, duster jacket. A hood was pulled over her hair and face, not to protect it from the desert sun but the bite of cold now. She took a few tentative steps forward until she was standing directly in front of Claire.

Claire didn't dare allow her heart to hope; she would not survive if her heart were broken again. She didn't allow herself to feel anything at all until the figure reached up and pulled the hood back from her face, and Claire's pale green eyes locked with those that were blue, like gazing into a melting pool of a glacier. Slowly, she let the stock of the rifle fall away from her cheek.

Alice smiled that hesitant, almost timid smile of hers. "I'm back." She said, almost as shyly as she had smiled.

Fighting the rising tightness that constricted her throat, Claire swallowed hard. "Are you?"


	5. Chapter IV

**Yeah... I know it's been awhile. But I'm all geared up for the release of the fourth movie. My apologies and junk.**

**This isn't that good, but it is what happened. I apologize in advance for any suck that might occur.**

The journey to Alaska was arduous.

Alice could have taken one of the many choppers she and the clones had commandeered, but Alice did not want to deprive them of a single resource. Instead, she took one of the monster Jeeps they acquired from an abandoned National Guard armory.

She wanted the time that driving from Nevada to Alaska would grant her.

The drive to Alaska would take two days and sixteen hours given that she did not run into any major obstacles along the way. Finding the survivors would not be terribly difficult; Alice found that if she probed her mind, tested it like working a loose tooth with her tongue, she could sense vague snatches of Claire and the others.

It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since her first encounter with the Infected.

And now she had roughly three or four days before it was over, before she left it behind for the frigid wilderness of the north and her lover.

Five years since the T-Virus infected the Hive. Those that she had watched die there were the first victims of Umbrella's apocalypse, although she hadn't known it at the time. She remembered all of it as if it had not happened to her.

Her past self seemed so young and naïve now when Alice thought about it. She was no stranger to death, even then, but what happened in the Hive was not death, but absolute horror. Alice remembered the tang of fear she had felt then, the shiver of terror at the sight of the Infected. She remembered the desperation and pain when Raine had been Infected.

She remembered smoothing Raine's hair from her face, reassuring her even as the Virus ravaged her body, sapping her of strength, perverting her flesh. "No one else is going to die." Alice had promised her, cupping Raine's cheek with her hand. And Alice had truly believed it.

She had believed it because she could not imagine a world where her lover could die. That reality simply was not possible, despite everything she had witnessed in the Hive. They had the anti-virus. This would be a brutal, vicious chapter of their lives, but it would end. Raine would be fine; they would all be fine once they reached the surface.

Alice had promised her lover that she would not die.

It was a promise she had broken.

The world, her world, had ended when Raine had died. And the nightmare never ended.

Until now.

Alice watched the desert roll anonymously away in front of her, gradually giving way to a sparse scrub forest as she headed further and further north. Eventually, the scant bushes became fuller bushes and eventually trees. Suddenly, the road crossed into a dense forest. Untended trees hung their long limbs over the road that was cracked and pitted with five years of neglect.

Raine had not been the last person she failed. There was a litany of others, named and unnamed. So many had died that Alice could not remember them all, sometimes she could not even remember their names. But Rain had been the watershed for all that followed. After that, after Umbrella began tainting her humanity with their experiments, after Raccoon City, Alice ceased to recognize herself.

She had been the one to kill Angela Ashford, the child they had rescued from the Raccoon City school. She had trained her sidearm at the young girl's face, and pulled the trigger. The bullet had torn through skin, smashed through cartilage and bone, ripped through soft grey matter. The back of Angie's head erupted in a tangled mass of brain and blood and hair and shards of bone as the bullet punched through the back of her skull. It had not been to spare the girl Infection. It had been murder.

Alice had killed Angie, shot her in the face at point blank range.

She knew in her mind that it had not been her fault. Umbrella had activated their satellites and seized control of Alice's body, and she was powerless to stop it. The hand holding the sidearm rose no matter how hard she struggled to lower it, no matter how loudly her mind screamed for her to stop. She had not pulled the trigger, Umbrella had. Alice had merely been the puppet.

But Alice had still been close enough to see the confusion, then fear, register on the child's face. Despite her struggling against the mind control, Alice could still feel the recoil in her wrist as the weapon fired, still feel the warm splatter of blood on her face. She could still smell the acrid tang of gun smoke and blood in the air, still see the faceless child's body crumple to the concrete.

After crossing into the forests of Canada, Alice saw no signs of Infection. Nor did she see a single human. But the forests were far from being lifeless. Wild life flourished. Plants and bushes grew into the road; deer lifted their heads from grazing only to give her Jeep a cursory glance as she drove past. Squirrels and rabbits and feral cats skittered in front of her, causing her to slam on the brakes more than once. Life had survived here.

After killing Angie, Alice hid. She found a way to avoid Umbrella's satellites, avoid all other human contact. She wasn't safe. There was no one she could trust, least of all herself.

Until Claire.

The younger woman had reignited something in Alice that she had not even known she had been missing.

Five years of death and isolation had robbed her of whatever remained of her humanity, her feeling. Without even realizing it, Alice had surrendered her emotions, numbing herself to whatever emotion remained. What parts of her that Umbrella had not tainted with their experiments, she had suppressed in order to survive.

She had lost too many friends, too many loved ones to mourn anymore. She had beheld too much destruction and chaos to grieve. She had seen too much anguish and atrocity to hope. She could no longer remember what fear felt like. She knew that she had experienced all those emotions at one point, but could not recall what they had felt like. One day transitioned to the next without thought or feeling.

Until Claire.

Until Alice realized she was terrified of losing the younger woman, that the thought of her death immobilized her with a sickening agony. The numbness was shed, and she could feel again.

Small, warm hands on her naked shoulders, pulling her closer. Smiling lips soft against her own. The gentle weight of Claire's head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. The soft silk of strawberry blonde hair in between her fingers. The warmth of their bodies against one another, the solace of human contact.

She began to hope again because there had to be a better place, a better life, not for herself but for Claire. Alaska.

The hours on the road passed swiftly. Alice gave little thought to her drive other than to occasionally stop and rest. She passed signs welcoming her to Alaska, but paid little attention to them. Instinct guided her down isolated roads, bringing her ever closer to Claire.

It had been the hardest decision Alice had ever made to let Claire and the other survivors take off in the chopper without her. The last glimpse she and Claire had shared as the chopper took off still haunted her; it was a pained understanding. Claire had always understood.

There were things bigger than both of them. Alice had not wanted to venture underground into that facility, but someone had to. Someone had to find a way to stop the Infection. If humanity were to have a chance of survival, someone had to fight for it. If Umbrella, the Infection wasn't stopped, even Alaska would not be safe forever.

Alice had wanted to climb in the chopper and let it be someone else's problem. She could have escaped with Claire and lived happily with her in the safety of the north, fell asleep next to her every night, woke up wrapped in her embrace every morning. But it would have been selfish. She had been willing to risk her own life, her life with Claire, if it had meant that Claire and the others would be safe, that they would have a chance.

Now, she had done her duty to humanity. Humanity would survive, and she could live. Three days drive, and the nightmare was over.

Alice nearly missed the brightly colored little sign on the side of the road as she drove past. Her eyes widened as she read it. "Abernathy, Alaska." She was almost home.

The town was meager at best. Most of the buildings were still standing and in decent repair. It did not have the feel of the ghost towns. There were people here, Alice could sense them, but she kept driving until she reached a small but obviously well-maintained cabin.

It wasn't much, but there was a small covered porch with an old rocking chair. A few crates were stacked beside the door, but there was no hint as to what was in them. Fishing rods leaned against the cabin wall next to the crates, and a variety of tools hung from nails along the left side of the cabin. The two windows that Alice could see were obscured by makeshift curtains: old t-shirts it looked like.

The door burst open before Alice could even turn the key in the ignition.

K-mart. Still a teenager, the girl looked stronger, more muscled than Alice remembered. And now she carried a rifle, carefully aimed at Alice.

Opening the door to the Jeep, Alice stepped down, felt the uneven gravel shift underneath her boots. A glimmer of recognition bolted across the teenager's face and the rifle fell to her side, but Alice's attention averted to the cabin door, which burst open again.

Claire moved with the feral purpose of fighter, butt of a rifle against her shoulder, cheek pressed to its stock, barrel pointed directly at Alice. Despite the damp cold of the air, she hadn't bothered with a jacket, and appeared much like she had the first time Alice had seen her.

Long strawberry blond hair tucked behind her ears, a ball cap with its brim pulled low over her eyes. Slowly, the stock of her rifle fell away from her cheek and her mouth opened slightly as her eyes registered what she was seeing.

Alice's pulse thundered behind her ears as she forced herself to step forward, until she was standing in front of her lover. With a slightly shaking hand, she pulled back the hood she wore to protect her face from the wind.

And their eyes met. The world seemed to fall out of focus except for the two of them. After surviving five years of Infection and death, after venturing into the underground Umbrella facility all by herself, Alice noted, with a start, that she was nervous. She forced a faint smile. "I'm back." She managed to say, and hoped it was louder than a whisper.

Claire hesitated and tensed visibly. She swallowed as if forcing her voice to work. "Are you?"


	6. Chapter V

**It just takes a few minutes of your time to leave some reviews/feedback. They are greatly appreciated. So, be kind, help me get my feedback fix. Feedback saves lives.**

The cabin that Claire and K-mart had shared for so many months suddenly seemed too small, too cluttered, Claire thought as she set the kettle on the wood-burning stove. She removed two cups from the kitchen cabinets and set them on the counter in front of her, trying to ignore the crawl along her spine that told her Alice was intently watching her.

She could always tell when Alice was watching her. Even back in the convoy days when she would feel the weight of eyes on her, and she would look up to see Alice gazing at her from a distance. It was not an unsettling stare, but a knowing, studious gaze that left Claire feeling as if her emotions had been stripped naked. It was always as if Alice could see clear through whatever emotional walls or boundaries that she erected.

Usually, Claire found comfort in the fact she did not, could not, hide anything from Alice. She was the only person that Claire did not have to always be strong for, be calm and collected and in control for. Alice did not need her to be strong all the time, did not depend on her for leadership and decisiveness. There was comfort in being able to be weak sometimes, and Alice allowed her that, allowed her to show the human side without judgment. She could always tell what Claire was feeling and knew just how to approach her, how to hold her, how to comfort her.

Normally, it was comforting that Alice knew her so well. Now, it was on the precipice of being infuriating.

It was just the two of them. K-mart had ushered the two of them into the cabin and promptly left, and was presumably keeping everyone else away. Giving them space that Claire wasn't sure she wanted. Her mind was cluttered with thoughts as the kitchen was with junk, and she could not organize them in her mind. Every time she tried to narrow her mind on a particular thought, another idea would divert her attention. Focusing on a task helped ease the scream of thoughts, though.

Heat the kettle of water. Set two cups out. Scoop some of the freeze dried instant coffee they had scavenged into each cup. Pour the hot water over the coffee crystals and stir. The hard part was turning around and setting the old mug in front of Alice, facing her again.

Alice sat at the kitchen table where Claire had been seated not minutes ago. Her eyes widened slightly as Claire sat the steaming mug in front of her. "Coffee?" She asked, her voice still barely above a whisper.

"We managed to find a few things. Luxuries." Claire responded hollowly. Instead of sitting across from her lover, she stayed standing, leaning against the kitchen counter holding her own coffee.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Claire found that not only could she not think of anything to say, but she also could not look at Alice. Every time she lifted her gaze, her chest tightened and tears stung the back of her eyes. At first she tried simply to focus on Alice's hands, but even that was a mistake. Those slender, delicate hands wrapped around the coffee mug were the same hands that framed her face, brushed hair from her brow, pulled her close. Claire could not bear to look at them without feeling something within her threatening to break.

Finally, Alice cleared her throat, shifting somewhat uneasily. "Whose idea was the sign?"

"K-mart's." Claire said quickly, sharply. "It was her way of honoring you. For giving us this place. Not just her but the other survivors."

"Oh,"

Claire risked a glimpse at her lover. For as much raw power as Alice possessed, when it came to matters other than fighting or surviving, she was awkward and skittish. She was like a feral animal that had only come to trust humans recently. Claire had been the one person she had come to trust completely, that she was comfortable around. But it was different now; Alice had reverted to being wary, as if the slightest quick movement would startle her.

"I'm back." She whispered again.

Claire bit down on the inside of her cheek hard, fighting the flood of tears. "Are you, Alice?" She whirled around and slammed her coffee cup on the counter, squeezing her eyes shut. "When will you leave again? I can't survive it… I can't." She drew in a shaky, deep breath and let it out smoothly, feeling the tears subside for the moment.

"I had to." The words were even softer than before. "Just like you couldn't stay. You had to make sure your people were safe." Her tone hardened, just faintly. "We both had our responsibilities."

"No, Alice." Claire turned to face her again, finally looking into Alice's eyes. "I know why you stayed behind, and you're right. We both had our own responsibilities. But you stayed away. For over a year, I didn't know if you were dead or alive… I thought you were dead."

Alice moved with the savage swiftness that Claire knew to expect, but still startled her nonetheless. One moment she was seated at the table, the next she was in front of Claire, her hands on her upper arms. "I am alive." Alice whispered through clenched teeth.

Although Alice could have easily stopped her if she so desired, Claire shrugged and pushed the hands from her arms. "Don't touch me." She could not bear for Alice to touch her, to feel her palms against her skin. It hurt too badly. The thing inside her on the verge of shattering wrenched agony in her chest. "I can't lose you again."

"You won't," Alice pleaded and reached for Claire again. "It's us now, only us. I'm back, and I will never leave you again." Her hands brushed an errant strand of red-blonde hair from Claire's cheek. "I'm alive. I'm alive because of you."

That final touch, the ghost of a caress across her cheek, finally caused that indiscernible something within Claire to splinter and break. The tears could not be stopped, the sobs could not be stifled. She fell into Alice, wrapping her arms around the slightly taller woman's waist and burying her face in her neck. Claire wept: wept for the woman she thought she had lost, wept for all the times she had wanted to cry but hadn't.

The numbness that had taken root in Claire was replaced by a cruel, overwhelming torrent of emotion. Everything she had not let herself feel in Alice's absence was suddenly shaken free, and it was all she could do to cry and be held.

Held by the woman she loved. Alice's lithe, muscular arms held her close, protecting her. Her delicate hands stroked her hair, soothing her. Their bodies fit together, molding against one another as if they had been made for each other. For the first time in over a year, Claire felt safe again.

"I need you," Claire finally whispered against Alice's chest when the tears had subsided slightly.

Alice did not so much pull away as shift so that she was gazing into Claire's eyes. "We need each other."

Like the first time, the tip of their noses touched first, then lips. Tears streaked both their cheeks, mingling, running together; they could taste the salt sweetness on each other's lips. It was kiss so soft it was almost torturous, and they held it, neither of them stirring or even wanting to break away to breathe.


	7. Chapter VI

**Okay, I'm not above begging for feedback. Please, please, please leave me some feedback. Pretty please?**

Claire hated the night.

Lying in bed at night, she was utterly alone. It wasn't like the convoy, when everyone slept two or more to a vehicle with only maybe a seat of separation. It wasn't until the repairs on their cabin were complete, and Claire and K-mart moved into their separate rooms, that Claire realized how accustomed she was to having at least one other person never farther than an arm's length away.

With K-mart in her own room and without Alice curled beside her, the nights were longer, more uneasy.

Claire would lie awake at night listening to her own breathing, the thrum of her own heart. The only rustle of noise was when she adjusted her position under the blankets. The space beside her in bed where Alice should have been was just empty. There was no weight on the mattress beside her, no warmth of a body pressed against her back, no gentle snores, no one to steal the covers.

It was total isolation. It was more than simply being alone. Back in the desert, it was easy to lie in the back of the Hummer and imagine they were the only ones left alive. It was easy to pretend that they were completely alone in the world, the sole survivors of a madness that even the Earth had fallen victim to, while the Infection conspired to rob them of what little remained.

Even then, Claire had not felt alone.

But in her bed in the cabin, the reality was devastating. She was alone. She had the other survivors, but they were no comfort to her. As close as they all were, Claire was still their leader and therefore separate. She had to be aloof, strong. There was no one for her to confide in, no one that could hold her, and no one that she could trust with all of herself. The only person who could fill that role for her was Alice.

And without Alice, she was truly alone. It was more devastating than if she were the last person alive in the world. There was comfort to be had, but she could not have it. She had tasted what it was like to not be alone, to have solace and love in another person, and it had been taken away. The loneliness was so intense it was a knot that sat on her diaphragm as she lay in bed every night.

The only thing worse than the nights and going to sleep without Alice was waking up in the morning without her.

Claire had come to dread the mornings. Because every morning she woke expecting Alice to be next to her, and she wasn't. Every morning she woke with the sickening realization that her lover was gone forever. Every morning she work up and felt a jab of terror in her chest, a heavy swell of nausea in her stomach as it sunk in that she was alone. No matter how much she thought she knew to expect it, it still caught her off guard every morning.

There was no mitigating the feeling.

It was a dread in the pit of her stomach as soon as her eyes fluttered open in the morning. It was a mixture of apprehension and anger, fear and anguish. Whatever respite her dreams may have offered were ephemeral, because every morning she awoke to the same fucked up reality where she was alone. A reality from which there was no escape. And finding herself in that reality every morning was the same solid blow of devastation that never relented.

So when Claire opened her eyes that morning, she was surprised to feel safe.

Until she realized that was not all she felt. The mattress caved just slightly behind her, and the warmth of Alice's front pressed against her back. Claire could feel the steady pace of her lover's heart, the protection of her arms wrapped around her. She could feel Alice's breath on the back of her neck with each rhythmic exhalation.

Claire felt nothing but security and comfort and love wrapped in Alice's arms, and she did not feel alone. A small smile played upon her lips and she gingerly rolled over in her lover's embrace so that they were facing one another.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Claire whispered when she found cool blue eyes already watching her.

Alice shook her head. "You didn't. I've been awake since the sun started coming up." She looked pointedly at the small bedroom window and the streams of light that found their way in around the t-shirt curtain.

"Christ!" Claire blinked in disbelief. "What time is it?"

"Why?" Alice smirked and arched a delicate eyebrow. "You got somewhere to be?" She asked, echoing a voice from the past?

"No," Claire said slowly, smiling a bit wistfully. "But I'm just not used to sleeping in." Her smile broadened as she realized that Alice was teasing her. "Just because we're safe from getting eaten by zombies at every damn turn, doesn't mean we can be lazy."

Still smirking, Alice silenced her with a kiss, and Claire melted into it without protest. She reveled in the softness of her lips, the slight, pleasurable tickle as Alice flicked her tongue over her lips. Claire parted her lips slightly, inviting her lover to kiss her more deeply more passionately, and Alice obliged, reaching up with one hand to rest her fingertips delicately along Claire's jawline.

They kissed for hours, minutes, Claire could not be sure. The only thing she was certain of is that she never wanted it to end, and even if it never ended, she was convinced it would never be enough.

Finally though, they parted, but just enough so the two of them could breathe and gaze into each other's eyes.

Alice's breath hitched. "I love you, Claire Redfield."

Claire grinned broadly. She had waited so long to hear that again. "I love you too, Alice Abernathy."

They were silent for several long moments. They did not need words. Claire had everything she needed lying next to her, but part of her marveled at the reality of it. This was not a dream; this was not some cruel trick her subconscious was playing on her. She would not wake up alone again.

Alice was really here next to her, kissing her, loving her. The world was right once again. It might not be perfect, but at least this was right.

"So what do we do now?" Alice whispered and craned her neck up to place a gentle kiss on Claire's forehead.

Shutting her eyes, Claire smiled. "Well, I could show you around, give you the tour." When Claire opened her eyes, she was rewarded by one of Alice's rare, genuine smiles.

"Great," Alice said dryly, still smiling. "I hear you can see Russia from here."


	8. Chapter VII

**For some reason, this asked to be written today. For Want of Other Idleness has been a fic I have written sporadically over the course of... almost three years to the day. Shit. I didn't realize it had been that long. I feel a little sentimental about it, but I don't want to be a girl on my period about it so I will just say thanks for the ride. **

**Thank you for all the support you have shown me and this story. Thank you for your patience and feedback. Thank you for believing in Alice and Claire. Perhaps I'll do a sequel one day, but for the time being, this is the end of this fic as I believe this is a good stopping point and I don't want to leave this open indefinitely.**

**Please enjoy this final chapter and let me know what y'all think or if you'd like to see a sequel. Maybe something with a plot other than mush and angst. ;-) And all mistakes are mine, by the way.**

* * *

Alaskan mornings were either cold or cool, regardless of the season.

Alice lifted the cigarette to her lips automatically, inhaling the heavy smoke without giving the action any thought. It was habit, but when she tried to remember exactly when it had begun, she could not pinpoint her first cigarette. Perhaps it had been in Raccoon City? Had Jill given her a cigarette? The former S.T.A.R.S. officer smoked more than anyone she had ever met, blaming it on the stress of a city full of zombies and a corporation that did not care if they lived or died.

A smile crept its way onto her lips. Jill. She wondered what had happened to her after they had split up. Surely she was still alive, if only because she was too damn stubborn to die.

The screen door creaked open behind her, but she did not turn around. It had been two weeks since Alice had found the town of Abernathy, Alaska, since she reunited with the leader of the convoy, Claire Redfield. Her lover. Even as the younger woman snaked her arms around Alice's waist, she found the thought odd.

Lover. Partner. Girlfriend. When everyday had been a battle simply to stay alive, and every night was a brief interruption in the struggle, relationships were not complicated. Alice found comfort in Claire; Claire had found comfort in her. There wasn't time for labels or complicated discussions. What they were had not been important then.

During their months of separation, it was clear that they deeply cared for one another, loved one another. They needed one another in a way that Alice was still defining.

She laughed quietly as Claire snagged the cigarette from Alice's fingers and replaced it with a cup of coffee.

Claire was indeed her lover and partner. Girlfriend sounded so trivial and asinine. It might had been appropriate Before, in a world before the Undead, when they could go to the movies or dinner or whatever people did when they dated. But labeling their relationship at all still seemed unnecessary. They were simply… together.

How else could she give voice to her feelings? To the surge of pride and affection she felt at the sight of the younger woman, explain how her heart sang and soared with its own beat and rhythm at the simplest of gestures: a smile, a touch, the cute little noises she made in her sleep. How could she articulate the clawing need she experienced whenever Claire was more than a few steps away, the desperate uncertainty when she was out of sight? How it all went away the moment Claire returned, replaced with a sense of solace and belonging that seemed to reach her very core? What word could approximate the swell of love that consumed her? Or the happiness she had never experienced before this woman? Or the longing and warmth that pooled in her stomach and flooded the rest of her body at Claire's touch.

No, there were no words, no phrases or labels…

Claire rested her chin on Alice's shoulder and planted a gentle kiss on Alice's neck. "I used to sit on this porch every morning wishing for you. Or at least a cigarette." She whispered, following Alice's gaze over the budding dawn wilderness.

"If I had my choice between myself and a cigarette, I'd choose the cigarette too." Alice teased and plucked her cigarette back from Claire. It was little more than a stub now, but she dragged on it one last time before crushing it under the toe of her boot.

"That isn't what I meant and you know it." Claire nipped her neck playfully, but then her voice wavered. "I needed you. You told me once it wasn't enough to survive, that I had to live. But I found that when I was without you, I could only survive."

Setting the coffee aside on the porch railing, Alice turned in her arms, framed her face with her hands. "Well, now we can both live."

When their lips met, it was a slow, deliberate kiss. Alice drew it out, letting her lips linger on Claire's for several moments before moving. It was torturously sensuous, not swayed by the urgent passion that both women felt. Alice could not help but smile, satisfied, at the quiet whimper that escaped her lover.

She broke the kiss, their faces still touching, their lips only barely separated. "Let's go to bed." Grinning, she caressed the soft skin under her thumbs.

Confusion clouded Claire's features momentarily before she comprehended Alice's intention. "Oh. Oh, yes!"

* * *

Claire fell back onto the bed, her hands fumbling with the buckle of Alice's belt. It had been fourteen days, thirteen nights since Alice had returned to her, but the one aspect of their relationship they had not yet returned to was sex.

It had not been intentional. Their reunion had been emotional, overwhelming. They were reacquainting themselves with one another, learning where each other fit in their lives now that so much had changed. Claire felt incredibly vulnerable, all of her weakness, all of her pain lay bare and exposed to her lover. Sex would have been too much.

Alice was learning how to fit into a life where she did not run, did not fight. She was no longer alone under constant threat. Instead of relaxing, she became hyper vigilant, restless without a purpose or goal or enemy. Over time, she had fallen into a routine and some of that old wariness began to melt away as she gradually began to accustom herself to safety, to happiness.

The time had never felt right. Until now.

But Alice stilled Claire's hands as they succeeded in unbuckling her belt and began working on her zipper. Wordlessly, she held Claire's eyes and pushed her hands away. Puzzled, she met Alice's eyes.

"No rush." Alice whispered and lowered herself on top of her lover and kissed her slowly, as if they had been separated only moments instead of months, as if their kisses were just a casual expression instead of the manifestation of the depth of their collected emotion. They kissed as if they had all the time in the universe, as if they were safe from the Infected, from the world. They kissed lazily, until Claire physically ached, and her lungs hungered for breath.

Alice's patience did not stop with kissing. Clothes were slowly shed until they were skin to skin. Every touch was unbearably gradual, and Claire submitted herself to Alice's exquisite torture.

The lovers consumed each other of the slow enjoyment of two people well acquainted with hunger and longing. With each touch and caress and kiss, they spoke every word, shed every tear, embraced every emotion they experienced in their time of separation.

Claire cried out when Alice gently entered her yet held back from climax, wanting to feel Alice inside her, a part of her forever, when they ceased to be a couple and they became a single entity of affection and adoration and love.

And hope.

Hope beyond measure or equal. Some distant part of Claire's mind recognized the feeling that gripped her with equal force as the urgent sexual need that also seized her. It was hope. Hope that she had fought so long for fear of disappointment. Hope that she had not allowed herself that her lover might never return, and she would be alone forever. Hope that swell and rose with every measured thrust. Hope once denied and now renewed.

Alice pushed her towards the edge of climax, coaxing her to the edge of a physical and emotional catharsis that drowned out all thought with pure feeling. Abandoning any restraint she had been clinging to, Claire pushed into her lover, grinding against her hand, her body, her mouth until she came with a savage scream and forceful shudder mirrored by Alice's own quaking release.

Claire felt her body sag into the bed utterly depleted of all energy. Alice lay half on top of her, thigh still pressed against her, hand withdrawn and resting on Claire's stomach, cheek pressed against her shoulder. She felt utterly relaxed, as if her muscles and bones had all melted. Her breathing evened and her heart slowed. Eventually, she felt Alice lift her head and brush her lips against her cheek.

Without opening her eyes, Claire smiled and reached for Alice's hand and moved it to her chest and placed it over her heart. "This is yours. Forever."

Alice stiffened against Claire, as if surprised by the gesture, but quickly recovered. Shifting, she reached over Claire for her free hand and placed it over her own heart so that each woman could feel the steady rhythm of the other's heart. "And this is yours, forever." Alice whispered thickly, and Claire heard rather than saw the raw emotion replaced with a smile. "Does that mean you want to take my name?"

"You already have a town named after you, you egomaniac!" Claire teased and gave Alice's hand a playful squeeze.

"I suppose Alice Redfield sounds nice." Alice mumbled, grinning into Claire's shoulder.

The younger woman did not respond, but she pressed Alice's hand against her heart more firmly. Could anything be that simple? She opened her eyes and found those of burning ice and blue gazing up at her. Perhaps it was precisely that simple. "No… I think I like Claire Abernathy better." Their lips met, then tongues and neither woman pulled away for a very long time.

* * *

**Again, from the bottom of my heart, thank each and every one of you for reading and supporting this story. Leave some final feedback if you'd like.**

******And may your shotgun always be loaded and may the zombies never find you. Godspeed and good hunting.**

******-Jayden A. Scott**


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